(We are watching “The Wizard Of Oz” on TV.)
Eight-Year-Old: “Mummy, they need a brain, a heart, and… what does the lion need?”
Me: “Well, think about it; if the lion is scared of everything, what does he need to feel powerful?”
Eight-Year-Old: “A sword!”
It’s naptime for my two-and-a-half-year-old daughter. She’s a pro at stalling; she needs to use the potty, we need to cuddle — I split time with her father so obviously I’ll never say no to cuddles when she asks — we need to read a few stories, etc. Finally, I get her tucked into her crib but she has this devilish grin on her face as I say, “Good night.”
About ten minutes later, I crack open her door to check on her and see her laying in her crib — she doesn’t know how to climb in and out yet — with a book propped on her chest. She tried to pretend to be asleep but knew she was caught! As an avid reader, I can’t get mad; I just make her promise me she’ll get some sleep during naptime.
I check 15 minutes later and she is genuinely sleeping. Now I know I need to check her crib for “contraband” before laying her down to bed!
(It’s late December. The weather is cold and snowy, and most days have been overcast and dull.)
Husband: *for the millionth time* “The sun doesn’t come up until after breakfast, and it sets before we have supper.”
Me: “Yeah, the cold and the dark can get pretty depressing. We should have some kind of a winter festival, with fancy decorations and parties and special foods and drinks.”
Daughter: “Great idea; you can organize it!”
(Facepalm.)
(During a particularly heavy period, I end up bleeding through my pad and onto my sheets during the night. When it doesn’t initially come out, I spray some stain remover on the faded stain and throw it back in the washing machine, something my dad notices me doing.)
Dad: “What’s going on? Did you spill something?”
Me: *deadpan* “Yeah, my vagina.”
Dad: *pause* “I guess I asked.”
My husband, who never was a cat person before, calls me from work one afternoon to asks me if I would like to get a cat. What the f***? I ask him why he is asking me this and it turns out the cleaning lady from his work has a few kittens that she is trying to give away and showed him pictures. My husband kind of changed his mind about cats because they were cute.
Of course, I tell him yes, and a few hours later, she drops this cute little furball at my house along with a bit of food and litter for a day or two. She is really shy and is a bit scared of my husband and spends a lot of time hiding.
The day after, my son comes back from school for the weekend and we are eating supper when the cat decides to come out from under my bed and stands yawning in the doorway. My son, who had no idea we had gotten a cat, stares at it for a sec and drops the fork on his plate. I realize that we had forgotten to tell him about the cat. He blinks a couple of times and declares that my husband and I are crazy!
